|
|
|
|
 |
 |
-Woodford Folk Festival 2001- |
In late 2001, Hedgemonkey got together their cut down travelling side, wrote a couple of new dances, adapted their repertoire for the fewer numbers and headed up north to tropical, balmy Woodford in the Sunshine Coast hinterland. It was the hottest summer in, ooh, maybe 50 years or more. ...42 degrees on Christmas Day! ...and humid! Now Woodford Folk Festival, if you haven't been, is the biggest and probably the best folk festival in the southern hemisphere, some say in the world. What it's not usually renowned for is seering heat, bucketing down showers perhaps, but it doesn't get that hot (ok, the southerners think it gets pretty warm).
Belswagger had missed dancing the previous year due to torrential rain, so they decided to come back with a bang. They devised an opening performance for the first night with a show only Belswagger could do. Consisting of morris dances from Belswagger, with Hedgemonkey guesting, a morris band, a Playford dance and more dancing to finish. Very interesting. Despite the warmer weather the festival was its usual colourful and exotic self with more music, dance and street theatre than you can poke a stick at ...and not to mention the food and drink! Most of the days were spent watching the entertainment or if it got too hot in the huge marquees, then listening to the entertainment from the safe distance of a nearby bar. At least the drinks were cool. Late afternoon is morris time so we all got kitted up, sliding into our black jeans, and hit the streets, sometimes fighting for a shady spot with the plethora of street performers. Hedgemonkey went out on their own while Belswagger went off to prepare for the street parade.
The warm weather carried on, as did the balmy (or is that barmy?) nights. There's nothing like wandering the festival streets at night, the cafes, the stalls, the bars, the big venues or the little cafe venues ...and the things you see. The next footup was to be the usual afternoon-to- dusk affair, after we'd all been to the traditional sword dance performance at the Folkloric venue. Sword dances from a multitude of countries and traditions were represented, some being rather spectacular, but we were waiting for the premier performance of Brisbane's newest rapper team the Queens Knights well done guys! The team consist of a smattering of past and present members of Moreton Bay and Logan Morris, with a fiddle player hailing from Windsor Morris in the UK. So, off to the footup ...oh no, a flash of lightening, a crack of thunder and Hughie sent it down. Hmm, the bar's looking good. Belswagger, full of bravado, and a few other things, headed out into the street. The Hedgemonkey foreman, however, on copping some serious looks from the rest of the team yelled, "To the bar! We're not messing up our nice white shoes and impeccable kits!" Belswagger, however lasted two sloshing dances in the pissing evening and thought better of it. The bar was suddenly full of soggy flowers. The whimps! Belswagger managed to end up in another parade on the following evening. I'm not sure if they volunteered or were sucked in, but off they went. The main morris performance took place on New Year's Eve. A combined stage performance of Belswagger and Hedgemonkey highlighting the difference between traditional Cotswold and contemporary Cotswold morris, with a bit of history chucked in.
And what was the highlight of the festival? Well, it's hard to say, Woodford has so many wonderous things that go on, they all end up being highlights. But one thing that stood out and you can't forget is Gerry Amos's ridiculous morris hat! If you were at the National you'd know what I mean. ...then there was Greg's blue hair.... Kimbo - National Folk Festival 2002 - Fine and sunny most of the time, with occasional deluge, and light to moderate frost. That’s bloody good for those who care, ordinarily I'd be freezing my butt off in sub arctic temperatures and pouring rain!!! The festivities began with a Birthday Ale hosted by Molonglo Mayhem, where much fine English food was consumed. Thanks to the organisers, and the award for abundance must go to the barmaid of the local inn for pouring a lovely PINT of red wine, as one of our number found out to his own detriment. Friday saw the beginning of the festival and an earlyish start at the NGTP (Nearest Guinness Tent to the Piazza). We saw some good performances by the Britannia men and Molonglo, and continued to drink and dance to the best of our ability. (by this stage fairly limited by booze), till the rain came down and reminded us once again that we were in sunny Canberra. Our Foreman, Geoff’s, plan to avoid any dancing during the early workshop and performance on Saturday was greeted with much enthusiasm. Thus we were all divided up into groups and told to teach a dance each to a small group of (naÔve) audience participants. When this was completed we sat back and watched them perform the set for us one group after another.(they did very well). After the show we were actually greeted by enthusiasm from the suckers/participants who genuinely seemed to enjoy the dancing!! Congratulations to all involved. Once again it was good to catch up with other sides at the George Harcourt this year, and spend hours drinking fine ale and dancing the afternoon away. Sunday must be remembered as a day of excess. Up to this point we had not consumed as much as we perhaps could of the excellent food and ale on offer or indulged in excessive political machinations. Sunday saw all that restraint go clean out the window. After a good workshop the Glorishears invited the AMM and BMM to come to a barbeque and piss up. So we laid on some booze (thanks to the absent bagman, Tim) and really got stuck in. (are there any photos of the impromptu workshop for 2 year olds?). After this merriment we stumbled fuzzily back to the festival for the Massed Morris where everyone participated in an excess of morris dancing. Chaotic but fun - thanks again to the organisers for that one. Then came the home brewing workshop courtesy of some friends of Britannia ….. A fine gentleman invited the morris dancers to come to his home brewing workshop on Sunday night (scheduled, strangely enough, just before the AGM). I was easily persuaded of his gallantry by an offer to drain the keg, which on behalf of the side I accepted. Once we made our way to the workshop we all began drinking, dancing and singing with renewed vigour (anyone who has heard the AMM sing in recent years will cringe at the thought). At the stroke of 7:30 I decided to make my way clearly and soberly to the AGM with full knowledge of my imminent responsibility toward an incorporated national organisation. The rest of the world had other ideas however and proceeded to swing jauntily past my bloodshot eyeballs to the tune of "we had a little drink in the old ….." , frankly its lucky any of us made it there at all! Congratulations to the elected members, whoever you are. Oh yeah… someone told me there were some festival acts on as well. One of these days I might catch one. Probably seeya next year Mike James - Medieval (ever so) Fayre 2002 - As soon as I flashed my pass and was allowed into the grounds of magnificent Carrick Hill, I immediately felt out of place. Out of place and out of time. I was driving a 21st century chariot while everyone else was either practising their sword play or putting the finishing shine on their medieval drinking goblet. I quickly left behind the trappings of a modern world and proudly paraded my exotic (and borrowed) Rajhastani slippers and matching pantaloons, and set off in search of medieval fulfillment. I was now in the Middle Ages and eager to enjoy the role-play that was unfolding around me. The Fayre of all things Medieval was laid out over several acres of verdant hillside and beckoned seductively for me to experience its every authentically-recreated sensation (well almost.) The next few hours I spent wandering around amid pennant-lined pavillions and tents, their owners selling everything from dragon-shaped jewellry, ceramic fairies, t-shirts smothered in Guinness logos, all the way through to children's books written in French and patio furniture made from branches of hawthorn. The lilting sounds of delicately plucked harp strings wafted melodiously past as I paused in the shade of an ancient elm to quaff a pleasantly cool pint of "Dragon's Blood" - an interesting melange of cider and raspberry! The day gradually played out its glorified history, all at a very enjoyable cart-pushing pace. There were raucous and boisterous bouts of passionate jousting between teams of mail-clad, 9-foot tall Vikings, cocky wanna-be archers shooting arrow after arrow into cardboard pigs and numerous meandering parades of motley musicians, knights, beggars, peasants, kings and princesses. The aromas of cooked delicacies from faraway lands tricked me into thinking I was hungry all day long, and the warm sunshine prompted a walk past the ale house on more than several occasions. Everywhere I looked there was entertainment, jesting, music, dancing and men and womenfolk simply milling about, soaking it all in. A medieval smorgasbord. And it lingered on well into the long, lazy afternoon. And when it came time to finally rinse out my drinking mug, roll up my 'souvenired' Medieval Fair poster, and head for the exit, there was one image that kept pushing its way to the front of my thoughts. It was the flash of the tri-coloured ribbons, the ring of the bells and the sight of those high-leaping, stick-clashing, hanky-waving, all-in-time Morris dancers that accompanied me so inspiringly, on my journey home. Thank you, Hedgemonkey Morris, for really making the day worthwhile. An avid Medieval Supporter |
||||||
|
Abuse the Editor
|
